


For Honor or for Honour

by Teawithmagician



Category: Robin Hood (2010)
Genre: F/M, Kink, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teawithmagician/pseuds/Teawithmagician
Summary: He calls John, his king, “My liege”. He bends his knee and calls Isabelle, his queen, “My liege lady”. He bends his knee, he stands before her. She outstretches her hand, her fingers slide over his well-shaved head, his not-so-well shaved cheek, the little brown scar in the corner of his mouth.





	For Honor or for Honour

**Author's Note:**

> Title origins from Dan Bull's rap song. I'm honestly surprised I haven't found any of Isabelle/Godfrey fics yet. Let me fix it, gals.  
> Look for translation below.

He calls John, his king, “My liege.” He bends his knee and calls Isabelle, his queen, “My liege lady.” He bends his knee, he stands before her. She outstretches her hand, her fingers slide over his well-shaved head, his not-so-well shaved cheek, the little brown scar in the corner of his mouth.  
  
She touches his chin and he tilts his head, so his cheek now lies in her arm, warm and just a little rough from the bristle. “And when the lambs become lions,” he mutters, closing his eyes, “am I the lion who becomes a lamb?” “Je suis ta Reine,” she says, running her thumb on his thick, black brow. He opens one eye, green like a Royal emerald. “Et tu es mon amant.*”  
  
The sound of her language is an appeal for a lion. He stands up slowly before her, finally dressed-up like a noble. Chain-mail makes him look older and darker, when he is off his guard, he's thin and tall, and there is dark hair in the V-collar of his blouse, and soft little sunburned hair on the back of his arms, his eyelashes dark and long like of a southern lady.  
  
He approaches. She makes him stop by putting a hand on his chest, his chest is moving as he breathes. Her breasts are moving as she breathes, deeply, agitatedly, they both are stirred and taken aback by each other's presence. “Tu m'as manque, ma dame,” he says, leaning to her ear. She feels the goosebumps on the back of her neck, her nipples hard as glass and sharp as needles she never ever held in her fingers, as she is a lily and no lily should ever ply her needle. “Ca me manque, ma maitresse.**”  
  
She sighs and moves her hand away. She embraces him, pushing herself so close their bodies would have merged into one as though they were two comets colliding in the night the greatest kings are born. “Je suis la Reine,” she whispers in his ear as he kisses her neck and sucks on her earlobe, as her fingers are hunting for the manhood swollen under his clothes. “Il est mon Roi.***”  
  
“Oh ma Reine,” he chokes as she pushes her hand down under. She takes what is hers, what has always belonged to her, the source of pleasures she tried with the sulky knight of grass-green eyes. “Tu voulais devenir Reine. Non seulement peut-il etre Roi.****”  
  
“Qoui?*****” she gapes. He kisses her into the open mouth and pushes her to the table. She looks back, then she looks at him as he pushes her back, his hands under her hips. She makes that little sound between a laugh and a quiet holler as he presses between her spread legs, releasing himself from all the ties and belts.  
  
“If I become a King,” he says, as she looks into his eyes inquisitively, “you will be my Queen. Because that's how you become a Queen – by marrying a King.”  
  
“I was always a Queen, but a Queen in the making,” she raises her head proudly. He nods, caressing her hips with his long, tender fingers. “I knew I am a Queen some day. Now I am becoming one with John.”  
  
“You are his Queen,” he brings his lips closer to her half-open mouth, he licks his lips and she feels his breath, red with wine and meat, “Do you want to be my Queen?”  
  
Before she answers, he grabs her knees, he grabs her ass and hips, piercing her deep, making they both moan. She seizes his shoulders and crosses her legs around his waist. The table is shacking, the candlesticks are rocking and jumping, the table legs are squeaking on the floor. She is pulling him, and pushing, and kissing his lips, and sucking on his tongue, and spitting the words into his mouth:  
  
“No, no, no, I am already a Queen, and I want my King.”  
  
“Yes, yes, you are a Queen, and I will be your King,” he swears and hollers, and hisses, and presses his head to her shoulder, shivering. Last moves always come in the same time with the heartbeat: in and out, in and out, slowly, before they completely cease, leaving heart racing alone.  
  
She closes her eyes, presses her cheek against his cheek, caressing his wet nape. It's hot inside her, she looks down between their bodies with slight interest. His manhood is sluggish, not a burning spear she felt seconds before, she is wet and full, so full she leaks on the table. She touches the wet perplexedly, she smells her fingers in awe. The smell makes her believe what he has done is true.  
  
“Qu'avez-vous fait?******” she hollers, pushing him away. He doesn't answer, she slaps him across the face, jumping off the table. She feels the semen streaming down her hips and it makes her outrageous. He wants to slap him again, but he catches her hand.  
  
“Once I am the King, my love,” he says, “that won't trouble you.”  
  
She looks into his eyes, she wants to ask him if he has lost his mind to a fever, or he is joking with sick jokes he learned in the Crusade. He is not even smiling, he looks her into the eyes, and for a man who has to hold his pants with one hand, he looks confident enough for her to realize he is telling the truth.  
  
“Mon oncle...*******” she starts. Now his eyes are laughing.  
  
  
__________________  
  
*”I am your Queen. And you are my beloved.”  
**”I missed you, my lady. I miss you, my lover.”  
***”I am your Queen. And he is my King.”  
****”Oh, my Queen. You wanted to become one. Not only him can be the King.”  
*****”What?”  
******”What have you done?”  
*******”My uncle...”

 

 


End file.
